why are you covered in blood? + joenicky if it strikes a vibe
I'm typing this on mobile so sorry for the mistakes ALSO you know me so have a snippit of an AU that came to my mind with the plot
The forest is quiet, eerily so.
It's long since grown used to Nicolo and considers it one of it's own. It does not still for him like it did when he first arrived some fifteen years ago.
Nicolo and the forest are connected.
He knows his forest, and he knows that whoever runs within is not a danger, but that they are in danger.
Nicolo moves to prepare his bow, but the trouble finds him first.
The person crashes into him, and the sharp smell of blood fills his nostrills and his eyes flash.
"Why are you covered in blood?" Nicolo asks, alarmed, trying to take in the stranger's injuries in the setting sun. He looks up, and knows that they will be out of time soon.
The stranger groans, and collapses in Nicolo's arms. He sighs. There isn't much time left before dark.
He heaves the stranger onto his shoulders and goes to his cabin.
The cabin is small but old. Nicolo had come to it when he first came to the Forest and found sanctuary within its walls. He's made it his own over the years, repairing it and making it comfortable.
He isn't a medic, and this isn't a place of healing, but Nicolo will do his best.
The cabin only has room for one bed and Nicolo lays the stranger down on it's only blanket. He will need to take his furs out should the stranger be cold from blood loss, if this was indeed his blood.
He hurries to light a candle, letting it light his way as he goes to the washbin to get fresh water. He pours it into a bowl and grabs a rag.
Nicolo says nothing as he begins to wipe away the blood from the man's face. He would turn on a fire, but if the man was running from something, Nicolo doesn't want to give away their position.
The candle is more than enough light for Nicolo. Most nights he doesn't need it at all.
The flickering light dances across the man's face and even through the blood and grime Nicolo can make out the stranger's handsome features. He has a full beard, soft and well groomed, and there are freckles across the bridge of his nose. His eyes are scrunched, revealing laughlines that should be lit up in a smile but are only deepened with pain.
Nicolo keeps his touch brief, cleaning away the blood. There are scratches across his neck and chest, his clothing torn from his journey in the woods. The callouses on Nicolo's hands catch at the fine fabric.
This man could be noble with such fine clothes.
Lower he finds a worrying wound and Nicolo's fingers brush against it-
The man gasps and shoots up. A glint of metal flashes in the candlelight and Nicolo's neck is on the other end of a blade.
A blade that he is very familiar with.
Nicolo backs away as if burned and his hands go up. There's a phantom pain across his face as he remembers the last time he had seen the blade.
The Dragon Blade of the Crowned Prince.
Prince Yusuf al- Kaysani.
"Who are you?" The Prince hisses in a language that had been foreign to Nicolo fourteen years ago but has now become as comfortable to him as his own childhood's tongue.
The Prince stares at him as Nicolo fights to beat his own silence. His gaze flickers to the scar across Nicolo's face, but the man's eyes show no spark of recognition.
Nicolo moves to speak but the man groans then and the blade in his hand shakes before he drops it.
"Where am I?" The Prince grits out and he's tugging at his hair.
He stares up at Nicolo then, his dark eyes shine in the candlelight, reminding Nicolo of the dark sky at night.
They're filled with tears, wide and terrified.
